Obsession
by THE Kid Hardy
Summary: Love turns to obsession, and obsession turns to murder. Will Cena be next? New chapter 7.12.08! Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Obsession**

**Author:**** Krys a.k.a. Kid Dynamo a.k.a. THE Kid Hardy**

**Summary:**** After the death of his wife, John Cena tries to grieve in peace. That is, until he meets his new neighbor, a widower herself. But looks can be deceiving. (Based on the WWE Trish Stratus/Mickie James feud!)**

**Story Disclaimer:**** I do not own John Cena, or any other WWE Superstar and/or WWE Diva. Matter of fact, I do not own anyone under a World Wrestling Entertainment contract in real life. This is only fan fiction, and this is a story that just happens to blur the reality lines a little bit. Don't sue; you won't get dime out of me!**

**NOTE:**** I'm warning you now, this story will drift away from most of my normal romance stories. This story is, or has the potential to be, darker than most of my other stories posted on any site. This is a heads-up to anyone currently reading this: This story will have sex, violence, maybe a character death or two. No one is safe once my wicked mind gets to work!**

_**West Newbury, Massachusetts - April 7, 2006 - Edinburgh Cemetery**_

John Cena stared unseeingly at the scene before him. A casket was being lowered into the ground. The casket contained the body of his wife of several years, Alisha Nicole Anderson-Cena. She had been struck by a car in a hit-and-run incident a few months back, the impact of the blow knocking her into an irreversible coma. Though it had been one of the hardest and saddest decisions he had ever had to make, John chose to end her suffering and misery, and removed her from life support.

As the mourners walked by to drop a last parting gift onto her gravesite, John continued to stare into the wet, muddy soil. He remembered the night he'd had to let her go. Her whole family, consisting of brothers and sisters from all over New Jersey, were there, not to mention his own. He watched the lines grow farther and farther apart, and it felt as if a piece of him were dying each time he saw the spaces in her lifeline. Finally, the spaces thinned out into one long, single line, beeping loudly to show that the patient was now pronounced deceased, and he cried. He'd cried harder than he'd ever cried in his life.

And today was the hardest day he'd ever had to do. Right after a tough loss to Triple H for the coveted WWE Championship a few days prior to the death, this had happened, and turned his whole world upside down. His brother, Matt Cena, had been the one to help him the most with the funeral arrangements, her final resting place, etc. Though John had been indebted to his brother for helping him in his hour of grief, he couldn't help but want to be by himself right now. He just couldn't deal with the loss at the moment. It was too overwhelming to bear.

He walked past the grave, dropping Ali's favorite flower, a white pink-tipped rose, and a photo of them on their wedding day into the ground. "Something to remember while you're up there waiting for me," he said quietly, kneeling down in the mud to say a quick prayer.

The ground was soft and mushy, and he slipped a little before gaining his footing back as he kneeled. "I love you, Ali," he said, fighting back tears once again. He'd thought that he was all cried out, having cried every day since the night he turned her life support off, but then again, you can never cry too much. "I always have, and I always will. I won't forget you, I promise. Today's only a temporary goodbye. I'll be with you soon." He stood up in the cold, rainy afternoon, and walked to his car. He couldn't bear to see the gravediggers covering his wife's coffin. He was sure he'd lose it for sure.

His brothers were waiting for him at his car once he finally caught up to the rest of the attendees. "Are you gonna be okay, man?" Dan asked, clapping a hand on his shoulder for support.

John looked at his brother, and sighed. "I don't know, Dan. I just don't know."

_**At the same time - Austin, Texas**_

"Goodbye, Paul… I'll miss you." Krystle London wiped her red eyes, and kissed the casket containing Paul London's body. "I love you, Pauly… we'll be together soon. I won't ever forget you, I promise."

Less than two months after Paul London's death, his young wife had left Texas for Boston, Massachusetts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Disclaimer: Same as before. I don't own John Cena, or anyone currently under contract to World Wrestling Entertainment, or Titan Sports. I am merely a writer, and a drop dead broke one at that. Don't sue; there's nothing of mine that you would want, I'm confident of that much.**

_**Two Weeks Later - May, 2006**_

Having been given a few weeks off from hunting his WWE Championship from the current champion, Triple H, a.k.a. Paul Lévesque for his wife's funeral, John rolled over in bed, groaning as his head spun from dizziness and hangover. Falling out of the bed, he was immediately shaken into wakefulness when his body hit the cold floor.

And the cold slap of reality stung his face, numbing him to the core.

Ali was dead. She wasn't coming back at all. She was dead and buried, and there was nothing he could do about it, besides fuck his life up so he could join her. John loved her that much, that he would give up his life, to be with the one he loved. Hell, he didn't give a damn about his wrestling career anymore; people hated and despised him for using the ever-infamous "Five Moves of Doom!", and winning every single match with the same five moves.

If they hated him so much, what the hell was the point in going back to the WWE anyway? Those fucking fans wouldn't do a thing, except boo him out of the building. Well, that was more than fine with him. Before, he'd get fired up at all the people who cheered and booed him; they were the ones who urged him on, to never give up. He fought for anyone and everyone who cheered and jeered him; they were the reason he was still there, and he had been grateful to them for every single second they had shared his experience.

But now? Now, John couldn't give two shits about the fans, and what they wanted and expected of him. Before Ali's accident, John's last clear memory of her was the two of them arguing about his career. She'd wanted him to spend more time with her in West Newbury, and he couldn't, because of his wrestling career.

_**Flashback - Six Months Before - November, 2005**_

"_John, I think it'd be a good idea to cut down your schedule," Alisha said, laying a hand on her husband's arm, concern written all over her face. "Seriously, you're gonna burn out one of these days, I mean it. When was the last time you've had a decent night's sleep?"_

_John sighed as Ali followed him down the stairs. "Ali, baby, please, there's no need for you to worry about me, really," he said, getting aggravated. That whole weekend, Ali had been worried about him being tired, and nagging him about cutting down his work schedule. "It doesn't matter that I haven't had that much sleep. I'm the WWE Champion, I have an obligation to my fans."_

"_Well, what about your wife? What about your health? You can't defend your title looking like hell, not eating right, and not getting enough sleep. John, I'm really worried about you. Maybe it's best if you do lose the title."_

_John turned and faced his wife. "Ali, stop worrying about me!" he cried. "Please! It's suffocating me, honestly. I do get enough sleep; it may not be a full eight hours, but hell, what wrestler in the WWE does get eight hours or more of sleep?"_

"_One who doesn't have the heavy ass schedule you do," she snapped. "You want me to stop worrying over you, John? Fine! I won't worry about you anymore!"_

"_Thank God," he breathed, heading for the door._

"_You know what, John? One day, you're going to get tired of all those people. You're going to get tired of all the people booing you, and cheering you. You're going to resent your schedule, and everyone backstage. And that's when you're going to have a breakdown. That's why I worry, John, because I love you. And I don't want to see anything bad happen to you."_

_John turned at the door, and hugged his wife. "I love you, Ali. I'm truly sorry."_

"_It's alright," she whispered. "You do what you think is best. You just come back to me in one piece." She winked at him, and he grinned._

"_I'll be back in a few days," he said, kissing her lips. As he pulled out of the driveway of their house, he saw Ali waving at him, a beatific smile gracing her face._

"_I love you!" she yelled for everyone to hear. He only grinned and tossed her a thumbs-up sign, as he pulled off into the street._

_**End Flashback**_

John groaned again, and sat up on the floor, an exhausted look on his face. "Lord, I wish that you were still here," he sighed, running his hands over his face. He sat back on the bed, and looked at the alarm clock next to his bed. 12 noon. If he maybe went back on the road early, and threw himself into his matches more, then maybe he wouldn't have to think about how alone he now felt.

He looked at an empty bottle of Jack Daniel's on the nightstand behind his clock, and groaned again, grabbing the bottle and tossing it agitatedly against the wall opposite his bed. He flopped facedown into the pillows, wanting to block out everything in the past five months that had fucked his life up. Just as he was sure he was going to smother himself, a loud noise brought him out of his trance.

Someone was moving in next door.

_**Outside…**_

"Bro, can you be a LITTLE more CAREFUL?" Krystle London asked, running a hand through her dark brown and red streaked hair. "I mean, that DID cost a lot of money, you know."

"Lady, chill," one mover said, as he and his partner brought a giant portrait out of a monstrous U-Haul truck. "We're doing the best we can."

"Well, maybe you can be a tad less King Kong-like with your moving skills?" she suggested, climbing into the truck, and bringing out a dresser on a cart. "Put the painting on the second floor. I'll hang it up later, once I get everything settled. And when you come back, you can take this dresser, and place it in the front bedroom." Krys looked around her, and squinted. "Wow, this place looks sort of… dead."

"Krys!" a voice called. Krystle turned around to see her friend Martinique Evans come pulling up in her Jeep. Martinique and her cousin, former WWE Superstar Rodney Mack, got out of the car, and hugged Krys. "I'm surprised you're here so soon."

"Well, the only reason I stayed in Texas was because of Paul." Krys looked down at her wedding ring, her eyes getting misty. "And now that he's gone…" her voice wavered "…I have no reason to stay there. So I thought, 'What the hell, I might as well come back up north with you guys.' So, here I am, moving in early."

"It's great to see you, girl," Martinique said, wrapping her arm around Krys' neck. "You will absolutely LOVE West Newbury. It's no Cambridge, or Austin, or even Philly, for that matter; but it's still a damn good place to live. And you have to meet the residents around here! They're great, I'm telling you. You'll fit right in."

Krys looked around her, and squinted once again. "Well, I guess I'll have to wait for my warm reception, huh?" she said jokingly. "While you're here, want to help me unload some of this crap I got while down in Austin?"

"I don't see why not," Rodney said, climbing aboard the truck, and handing out blankets and draperies to Krys and Martinique. "I'll handle the heavy stuff; you girls just grab whatever you can carry, and take them in."

"Thank you, boss man," Martinique joked, then took the bundle of fabrics with her into the house. "Hey, Krys, where do you want me to put these?"

Krys turned her attention to Martinique, who was in the doorway of the house. "Um, in the front bedroom," she called. "Paul Junior's staying with his grandparents and uncles in Austin, but I told him as soon as I got settled in, I'd send for him," she said to Rodney, who nodded.

"Char can't wait to see the little runt. Here, catch." He tossed her a box full of clothes, and Krys caught it easily.

"Thank goodness that wasn't my china!" she said jokingly, mocking a shocked look at her friend, grinning when he made a fact at her. "I'll take these in, be back in a few."

Walking inside her house, Krys placed the box in her bedroom near the side

window of her room. "When you guys bring in the bed, headboard, and footrest, put them up against the wall between the windows, preferably under the second window." The workers nodded, and left the room to go back outside and bring in more items to fill the house.

Standing in the middle of the spacious bedroom, Krys realized that she was alone for the first time in her life. Granted, she had Martinique, and her family to keep her company, but she wanted more of a love interest, or a prospect willing to have a relationship or a long-term affair. _That was exactly the way things were with Paul…_ she thought to herself, looking back to the promise ring on her right ring finger. He'd given her that ring back when they'd first started dating, because he knew that she was the one for him. She then looked to her wedding band on her left ring finger, and a lone tear coursed its way down her cheek. Why she did what she did was unexplainable, and inexcusable. That was the only reason she'd had to move from Austin to Boston/West Newbury.

Krys turned quickly when there was a knock at the door. "Krys?" Martinique asked softly, walking into the room. "Are you alright?"

Krys nodded quickly, wiping her face quickly, so as not to concern her friend. "Yeah," she said quickly, trying to cover the sadness in her voice. "I… I'm fine. I'll be alright."

"Is it about little Paul?"

"No. It's just… I don't know why I had to do it, M. It hurt so bad to pull that trigger, but he hurt me. I just… I couldn't take it anymore, and now…" she sighed "… my husband's dead."

"You never did tell me the whole story, Krys," Martinique said quietly, looking intently at Krys. "Just… why did you kill Paul?"

Krys looked Martinique right in the eyes, and said, "I'll tell you when the time is right. Right now isn't the time."

"Take your time, sweetie." Martinique hugged the young woman, who was almost like a sister to her. "Open up to me when you're ready. You know I'll always be here."

"I know. Thank you." _M,_ she thought sadly, _you'd never forgive me, if I told you the real reason Paul had to die._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Disclaimer: I do not own any of the following people: John Cena, Martinique Evans, Rodney Mack, Paul London, or any WWE Superstar or WWE Diva that have been or are really on TV in real life. The ones not mentioned in the preceding lines are my property, unless stated otherwise in disclaimers like these.**

That night, Krys got herself situated, with help from Martinique and Rodney. She'd had her bed unloaded off the truck and set up in her bedroom, and Paul Jr.'s bed set up in the room down the hall from hers. She and Martinique had scoped this house for months, and the day after Paul's funeral had been the day she paid off the rest of the mortgage on her new home. Then as soon as Paul's life insurance claim had come in, she put half in a savings account for her son, and took the rest and put it to good use, buying furnishings for the newly acquired home. "I'll only be gone for a little while," she told her son, "then I'll come down and bring you back up to our new home with me. Only a little while," she promised.

On this night, she took some time to reflect on the things she had done to get where she currently was. Taking a small goblet shaped glass, she filled it with red wine and sat in front of the fireplace she'd had specially installed, sipping the hard drink slowly. _It took a lot of guts to do what I did,_ she thought sadly. _But Paul, I hope you understand why I did it. I loved you, I truly did, but you fell out of love with me, and I was too in love with you to let you go easily. We said 'Till death do us part', and well… seems you've gotten your way, yeah?_

Remembering the look of disgust on Paul's face after she'd told him that she'd wanted to be with him forever shook Krys to her core. She was sure she'd never forget the next words that had come out of his mouth.

"_You're sick, Krys. Sick as hell. Stay away from me."_

Her face contorted as tears spilled down her cheeks. "We were supposed to be together forever," she said, feeling a tear run down her face, and drop into the wine. "You said you'd love me forever." She looked down into the glass of wine, and she could almost swear that the wine had Paul's face in it; that same glowering, disgusted scowl he wore the night he'd died.

"_Stay away from me."_ The words tormented her, ate at her soul. She never accepted that Paul had grown tired of her, and wanted her out of his life. One of them had to go, and since her love had been unyielding for Paul, Krys felt that she had been justified in ending his life. With a scowl, she tossed the glass into the fire, and watched it burn.

"Stay where you are, Paul. I guarantee this is one trip you'll never come back from."

_**Flashback - Three Months Ago…**_

"_Paul, I'm home," Krystle called as she walked into the house she shared with her husband and son Paul London, Sr. and Jr. "Little Man, where are you?"_

"_Hey, mom!" Paul Jr. yelled, running down the stairs and into her arms. "Where were you all day?"_

"_Sorry, sweetie, I had to go out and buy some stuff for dinner tonight," she said, kissing her son's forehead. The six year old boy smiled at his mother, and she looked at him suspiciously. "What's with the evil grin on your face?"_

"_Nothing," he lied, keeping his arms wrapped around her waist. "Nothing at all."_

"_You were out playing in the dirt again, weren't you?" she asked, giving him a sly look when he looked shocked. "I knew it. Pauly, you know you're not supposed to be out in the dirt. Now you're going to have to go wash yourself up and get ready for dinner." She started heading into the kitchen. "Where's your father?"_

"_In his room. Mom, can I go stay the night with Danny and Melissa after dinner?"_

"_What'd your dad say?"_

"_To ask you."_

_Krys rolled her eyes at her husband's nonchalant attitude as of late. "Sure, I guess you can. Or, if it's no problem with their mom and dad, you can ask them if you can go over now and eat dinner with them, then have tons of fun playing with them until Sunday night. Then I'll come by and pick you up for school on Monday. How's that sound?"_

"_Awesome!" the little boy yelled. "Thanks mom!" He ran to go call his friends and ask if he could come over._

_Krystle smiled as her son chatted away happily on the phone with his friends. _Such a good little boy,_ she thought. _With such a wonderful father. I wonder what I did right to have a family like this?

_She placed the groceries she'd needed for dinner that night on the kitchen counter, then went upstairs to pack little Paul's overnight bag. Once the bag had been stuffed with Paul Jr's clothes, toys, and miscellaneous items needed for a weekend of fun, Krys went to her bedroom to get Paul Sr. ready for supper._

"_Paul, sweetie, I'll have dinner made in a few--what the hell?"_

Krys scowled as the memories of Paul in bed with fellow wrestler Melina Perez assailed her mind. Bitter tears fell down her face once again as she thought of how guilty Paul looked as Melina ran out the door, then the disgusted look on his face as he told her that he'd wanted a divorce for a long time coming.

She'd resented the whore that had come between her and her husband, and she'd have her revenge. One way or another.

"_Johnny, tonight was perfect," Melina sighed as she cuddled into the arms of her boyfriend John Hennigan, also known as Johnny Nitro. The two had dated ever since they'd met up in OVW, and had been each other's soul mate. "I'm so glad we planned to get away tonight, aren't you?"_

"_I sure am," Johnny said, stroking an arm up and down her spine. "Say, Melina?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_What would you say if I asked you something?"_

"_Well, it all depends on what you'd ask me." Melina closed her eyes and sat up, hoping that this would be the night Johnny asked her to marry him._

"_How could you cheat on me?"_

_Melina's eyes flew open, and she stared at Johnny in shock. "What?"_

"_How could you cheat on me with Paul London? We were all friends, damn it!"_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Disclaimer: I do not own any WWE Superstar and/or Diva. They are all property of the Devil, Vince McMahon, and themselves obviously, not to mention their families. I only own Krys and Paul, Jr. Martinique and Rodney Mack are property of themselves. Thank you kindly for not suing.**

_**Flashback - Three Months Before**_

"_How could you do this to me, Melina?" Johnny yelled at her. "I've done nothing but be everything you wanted me to be, and you go behind my back and sleep with someone else!"_

"_John, it was an accident-"_

"_Cut the bullshit," he snarled, getting up out of the bed they were lying in. He went over to the nightstand next to the bed, and opened it._

"_What are you doing?" she gasped, seeing him pull out a .9 millimeter handgun._

"_I'm going to do something I've thought of doing ever since I found out about your escapades," he said, pulling the safety off of the handgun and aiming it at her head._

"_John, please, I've never meant to cheat on you," Melina pleaded, knowing that this very well could the end. Just then, she noticed the bedroom door opening, and a figured stepped inside. Squinting, Melina saw the figure step into the light, and she gasped._

_It was Paul London's wife._

"_You!" she gasped. "What the hell are you doing here?"_

"_Johnny," Krys said quietly, showing him a photo, "I believe you know what to do."_

_A tear streaked its way down John Hennigan's face. "I love you, Mel. We could've had a beautiful thing, but you've wasted it, and there's no atoning, except for the ultimate price._

"_Goodbye, Melina." The trigger went off, and Melina screamed as a bullet pierced her right in the heart, killing her instantly._

_The dead woman's body fell backward onto the bed and fell over onto the floor. "What now?" Johnny asked, wiping the tears from his eyes._

"_Give me the gun," Krys said, wrapping a cloth around her hand and taking the murder weapon from his hands. "First, we clear this of any marks. Then, we get rid of the body."_

"_There's a city dump nearby on the outskirts of town."_

"_Perfect. I trust you know how to dispose?"_

"_You taught me well."_

"_This is our last conversation, Johnny. After this, we can't talk about anything concerning Melina ever again. You realize that?"_

"_Yes. So… this is goodbye?"_

"_Yes. I'm sorry things had to happen this way."_

"_It would've been better if she had told me herself." The two shook hands, then Krys had headed for the door when Johnny called her back. "Are you going to do the same with Paul?"_

"_I don't know… I'd like to hear an explanation first, preferably not as pathetic as Melina's. Then maybe I might make his quick and painless."_

"_Goodbye, Krys."_

"_Goodbye, Johnny." The two shook hands again, then Krys left the room and the house, while John Hennigan disposed of his dead girlfriend's body._

_**The London House…**_

"_Paul, I'm home!" Krys called, coming into the house with a bag of shopping clothes she'd bought to cover up her tracks. "Are you here?"_

"_Yeah, I'm here." Paul came jogging down the stairs, a boyish grin on his face once more. "Hey, honey," he said, kissing her cheek. "I missed you for dinner, I ordered Chinese."_

"_Aw, that sucks ass." Krys shrugged. "Oh well, but life goes on. I've heard a story that I wanna tell you about." She wrapped her arms around his neck, and smiled at him._

"_What kind of story?"_

"_It's about a girl. She was cheating on her boyfriend of many years with a man who was happily married with a son." The smile on Paul's face faded, and he was left staring at her with confusion clouding his features._

"_And… what happened to this girl?"_

"_She was murdered." Paul gasped, and Krys' smile got wider. "By the girl's boyfriend and her lover's wife."_

"_What have you done, Krys?"_

_She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck so he couldn't get free, and pulled him closer to her, where she whispered, "She's dead, Pauly. Johnny killed her, and now she's on her way to the dump she belongs in."_

_Paul, now pale with horror, pulled away to face his wife, who now wore a sick scowl on her face. "And what about me?" he asked quietly._

"_Oh, you're safe," she said casually. "That is, unless you can't give me a damn good explanation as to why you cheated on me."_

"_It was an accident. I never meant for it to happen at all."_

"_You're bored with me, aren't you, Paul?" she asked, an almost pouty look crossing her face. "Well, you know what? I'm not bored with you yet. I love you, Paul, and we're going to be together forever. Just like we said in our wedding vows. I'm never letting you go."_

_Paul gave her a disgusted look. "You're sick, Krys. Sick as hell. Stay away from me."_

"_What do you mean?" Her eyes darkened dangerously._

"_I mean, I want you gone. I want you to get out of this house, and never come back. I want you to leave before tonight is over. And you're never going to see little Paul again. Don't ever come near us."_

"_That's not smart, Paul." She had a dark, evil look in her eyes once again as she pulled out the gun wrapped in cloth. "Take it all back, Paul, every single word."_

"_You really are sick, Krys."_

"_Take it all back!" she screamed, feeling tears slide down her face._

"_You're never going to get away with it!"_

"_I already have." She grinned evilly through her tears. "I actually wanted to give you a chance, but it seems that you're not worth it anymore. Goodbye, Paul. I love you." She pulled the trigger, and Paul's body fell to the ground with a thump._

_Falling to her knees in shock, Krys cried as she cradled Paul's dead body to her. _I didn't want to do it, Paul, but you left me no choice,_ she cried. _I did all of this for you. And now look where you are. This is all your fault. Why the hell did I have to love you so much?

_She wiped the gun once again, before tucking it inside her purse on the floor next to Paul's dead body. Wiping her eyes and sniffling, she walked over to the phone and dialed nine-one-one. "Hello, police? This is Krystle London, and I need you here immediately. I think my husband's dead!"_

_**End Flashback**_

Krys woke up in the middle of her bed, a cold sweat drenching her forehead. She immediately put her head in her hands, trying not to cry. _Oh, my God, what I have done?_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Disclaimer: Anyone that is a real WWE Superstar or Diva in real life, I do not own. I only own the psychopath in this story, and the son, Paul Jr., who is fictional as well. Any other disclaimers will be placed here in each chapter.**

_**The Next Morning**_

"Mar, I'm having dreams about him again," Krys said to Martinique the following morning. "I just can't escape seeing all that blood everywhere."

"Krys, you'll be okay," Martinique said, wrapping an arm around her friend. "These things happen for a reason. You know what? I saw an episode of 'Veronica Mars' that reminds me of just this thing…" While Martinique rambled on about 'Veronica Mars' and something about a busload of kids exploding then crashing over a cliff into the Pacific Ocean, Krys tried to block out the images of her holding the gun in front of Paul.

To try and get her mind off of the horrific details of her husband's murder, she said to Martinique, "Hey, what do you say we go out and ditch this lonely block? Are there any movie theaters nearby?"

Martinique slapped her arm playfully. "This place is not that bad," she said with a laugh. "They're just not used to someone moving in so soon. Anyways, I know the perfect people for us to hang with."

"Who?"

"My cousin Rodney, his wife Charlene, and our best friend John."

"I don't think I'm really up to going out right now, Mar," Krys said, shaking her head. "I mean, maybe it's best if I stay inside for a few."

"Why?"

"I changed my mind about going out." Krys went to go back inside, but Martinique grabbed her arm.

"Come on, Krys," she begged. "It's not healthy for you to stay inside all the time, you and I both know that. Just come out with us today, please?"

"I don't know," she mumbled, debating with herself. "Oh, alright, I guess. Give me about an hour to get ready."

A smile lit up Martinique's face. "Sure thing. I'll go get the others." She ran next door and knocked, while Krys went inside to get herself ready.

_**At the Same Time…**_

Waking up without a hangover for the first time since Ali died, John was surprised to hear knocking at his front door. Getting up and putting a pair of shorts on, he walked barefoot down the stairs to the front door and opened it. "Hey, Martinique," he said, greeting his friend. At the same time, the front door to the house next to his closed.

"Hey John." Martinique smiled at John. "Can I come in for a few?"

"Sure, sure." John stood aside while Martinique walked in. "I haven't had a chance to take a shower yet; I just got up, so you'll have to excuse me if I smell a little," he said, trying to joke a little to lighten his own mood.

Martinique smiled weakly. "No problem, John. I just wanted to know, before giving you your time to shower and dress, if you wanted to get out today and go to the movies."

"Mar, I'm not up to going out just yet," he said, shaking his head.

"John, you know it's not healthy for you to stay in for the rest of your life," she said quietly. "What about the WWE? What about your fans?"

"What about them? I'm not their champion anymore. I have no obligation to be there anymore. They all despise me, remember? Or have you forgotten?"

"John, I haven't forgotten a thing about you."

"Then you'd know that I need proper time to grieve. Look at Chavo; Eddie's been dead since November, and he's just now getting time off to grieve. I can't go back, Mar, not yet."

"Well, you can still go out, John."

"If I go out today, will you stop hounding me?"

"Maybe."

He smothered a smile. "Fine, I'll go. Give me about twenty to get ready."

"No problem. I'll be at Rod and Char's," she called, bouncing out the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Disclaimer: I don't own anyone that is, was, or has ever been in the WWE, or any development territory under the WWE branch. I only own Krys and Paul Jr. Martinique, Rodney Mack, Jazz a.k.a. Charlene, John Cena and all others in the WWE are their own property, and are property of the Devil himself, Vince McMahon, at least until their contracts are up. LOL.**

"So, Martinique, how's Krys doing after Paul's death?" Charlene asked, bringing out a small basket of fruit to take over to Krys's place. "How's she handling that and leaving little Pauly behind in Austin?"

Martinique sighed. "I honestly don't know if she's taking it well at all," she admitted. "But she said as soon as she gets herself settled in this new place, she'll send for little Paul, and they'll be a family again. As for her trying to get over Paul's death, she told me that she's been having nightmares about him dying again. I hope this little get-together gets her spirits up, and her mind off of Paul for the time being."

"I hope you're right, girl." Charlene then placed a hand on her little cousin's thigh. "How are you doing? You have to be hurting about John closing himself off after Ali's death."

"I'm okay. It's really John I'm worried about. He's normally loud and funny… but now he's quiet and distant, and it doesn't look like he wants to go back to the WWE in the future… if at all. I'm really worried about him, Char. He's never been like this before, and it's scaring me."

"Mar, I know how you feel. Honestly." Charlene took a deep breath. "I never really told anyone this, but… I was married before I met Rodney. It wasn't such a good marriage."

"What happened?"

"He was hit by a truck on our honeymoon. He went to drive out to get champagne for us, per his request, and was blindsided by a semi. The death, the doctors told me, was instantaneous, and that he didn't feel a thing." The older woman wiped her eyes, then continued. "I swore I'd never love again, then of course, I met Rodney and fell in love again."

"I hope the same can be said of John," Martinique said quietly, her eyes downcast.

Charlene placed her hand over Martinique's, and smiled at her. "Honey, if someone like me can fall in love after the death of my first husband, then people like John and Krys can learn to love again."

"I hope you're right. I sure hope you're right."

_**Later that Day…**_

_What am I doing out here?_ John asked himself, shielding his eyes as he stepped out into the bright sunlight. He had no idea whatsoever why he'd let Martinique talk him into coming out into the sunlight. He was still hurting over his wife being killed, and he was never going to go back to the WWE, he was sure.

Scowling, he pulled a trucker cap over his head, and stepped out in front of his house, locking the door behind him. He watched as another young woman came out of her house, and look around confusedly.

She looked around curiously, then stopped mid-look when her eyes rested upon him. "Um… hi," she said shyly, smiling nervously. "Um, I'm looking for Martinique Evans?"

"She's a friend of mine," John replied. "I'm waiting for her, too."

A smile lit up her face. "Cool, maybe we can wait for her together? I don't really know anyone around this city other than her and her family, so I don't know who's who at all."

John shrugged. "It's no problem. She finally talked me into going out for a day of so-called fun; what about you?"

"Same," she answered. "I don't wanna seem like I'm dumping my problems on you or whatever, but I moved in here a few days ago, about a month after my husband was killed. His family was suspicious of me having some sort of involvement in his death, so I decided to pack up and move somewhere back up north, where I was born. Shame, though…" she trailed off, her eyes looking down.

"What?"

The two sat down on the stairs in front of their houses, and Krys began speaking again. "The thing is, my son's down there, and it's killing me not being near him. I just want to hold him in my arms and comfort him, help him deal with the loss of his father… but I can't do that, and it's absolute murder." She sniffled, allowing a few tears to fall down her face.

"Hey, don't cry," John said. "We may be strangers, but I can certainly sympathize with you and your situation."

"How?"

"Well, I don't normally open up to people about this sort of thing either, but my wife was put in a coma after being ran over. She stayed in the coma for about a month or so, up until her family and I decided it would be best to take her off of life support. I've been beating myself up over it ever since."

"You have no reason to blame yourself," she chided gently. Without realizing it, Krys put her hand on his knee in an effort to help comfort him. "We all have things happen to us that we can't control. In your case, your wife was a victim of a horrible twist of fate, and her life was placed in your hands. No one should have to go through that kind of pain."

John was silent for a moment, then whispered, "Thank you… I've tried to deal with it on my own, but I think it'd be better if I stopped moping around on my own and started having others around to help take my mind off of it."

Krys shrugged. "That's sort of what Martinique did for me. She thought that if I moved up north again with her, that I'd eventually get out of this funk I'd been in since Paul was buried." Just then, Krys spotted Martinique's bright blue Jeep pull up in the driveway, and stood up. "And it looks like she's here for both of us."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in this story other than Krys and her son. Martinique, Charlene, and Rodney are all their own property. John Cena is his own property as well. I make no claims to anyone included in this story. It is purely fan fiction… Come on, if I really owned John Cena, do you think I'd be WRITING about being with him? LOL, didn't think so, so thanks for not suing.**

**Also, I don't claim to know that Paul London's mother's name is actually Heather; I'm just making these names up, LOL.**

"Hey, you guys!" Martinique exclaimed, stepping out of her Jeep. She ran up the stairs and hugged both of them; John first, then Krys. "I was starting to think I'd have to drag the two of you out of your houses kicking and screaming."

John smiled weakly. "Marty Mar, you know you couldn't drag me anywhere, even if your life depended on it," he joked. "So, where are we headed?"

"Well, it's the movies, silly," she said, grinning. "It's gonna be me and Marc, Char and the Rod-man, and you and Krys. BTW, John, this is my buddy Krys; she's just moved here from Texas."

"Yeah, we got to know a little bit about each other's situations while we were waiting for you," Krys said, a small smile on her face. "So, where are your cousins and your date?"

"Krys!" Martinique slapped her arm. "He's not my date!" she said with a laugh. "Char and Rodney are still getting ready, and Marc should be ready to go right about now." Her phone rang, and she excused herself to take the call. "Hello? Yeah, we're here… Yeah, it's me, John, and my friend Krys… Rod and Char are still getting ready, what about you?… Okay, babes, I'll pick you up in a few. Love you, bye-bye." She ended the phone call with the push of a button, and slid it back into her pocket. "That was Marc," she explained. "He's ready, so if you guys can just hop on in…"

"No need to tell me twice," Krys said, hopping up into the Jeep.

"Same here," John said, hopping into the front passenger seat. Martinique looked at him before closing the passenger side door.

"Are you sure you wanna sit there? Jazz or Rod might wanna sit there, and you know how they get when they don't get their seats…"

John laughed for the first time in days. "Okay, okay, I can take a hint. I'll sit in the backseat." He climbed from the front seat to the back passenger seat, next to Krys. "We're apologizing ahead of time if Charlene and Rodney embarrass you," John said with a smile.

Krys smiled back. "No need. I know how bad those two get, especially when hyped up on Goobers and Raisinets…" She trailed off, seeing the mock annoyed look on Martinique's face.

"Hey, those are my relatives you're talking about!" she scolded teasingly. "Don't you dare apologize… at least, not before strapping your seat belts."

"Yes, mama," she mocked, earning her a stuck out tongue from Martinique.

"Oh, you're such a brat."

"Waaaah."

"Thank you, John," Martinique said with a laugh as she pulled off.

_**At the Movies…**_

"Wow, so 'See No Evil' is in, huh?" Krys asked with a smile on her face. "I've wanted to see this movie for the longest time since it came out. What do you guys think about seeing it?"

Martinique checked her watch. "Well, it starts at four, and it's 3:30 now. So that leaves us enough time to get our tickets, grab us some munchies, and play a few games before we can head up to the theater sections. What do you guys think?"

"I think that sounds kickass," Krys said with a smile.

Marc merely wrapped his arms around Martinique's waist and smiled at her. "Anything you choose is fine by me, babes," he said. Martinique smiled back at him.

"Stop kissing my butt, Marc, you're making me look bad," she teased, earning her a laugh from the group. "So what about you guys?" she asked, looking at Charlene, Rodney, and John.

John shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me, any choice is fine."

Rodney put his thumb up. "I say we go buy our tickets now, so we don't have to worry about the rush from others trying to buy some as well, then we go play games and when it's time to go up, we go get some stuff to crunch on while we watch the movie." Everyone agreed, and they went to the ticket window to buy tickets.

_**Approx. two hours later…**_

Krys and Martinique walked out of the theater first, a hand each shielding their faces from the gory movie they had just seen. '_See No Evil_' was an awesome movie indeed, but there had been WAY too much blood for their liking, and in a sheer creeped-out state, Krys had grabbed onto John, and Martinique Marc, squeaking in terror as each disgusting scene unfolded.

"I actually thought it was awesome," Charlene was telling the group as they walked down the stairs to the food court. "That ending scene with the dog was fucking priceless."

"I don't know," John said from the back. "I think the cell phone scene is the best. I mean, how in the fuck do you get a cell phone shoved down your throat?"

"I guess this is a sign to tell all you loudmouths to stop yakking on your phones," Krys teased, poking Martinique in the ribs. "Eh, Marty-Mar?"

"You know well enough I don't talk on my phone THAT much," she protested with a smile. "I'm not as bad as that dumb blonde. She should've turned the damn phone off, or onto vibrate. She would've survived, or at least stayed alive in the movie a little while longer."

"I just wanna know, why the hell do they keep killing the black people off?" Rodney asked, shrugging his shoulders. "I mean, dude was a fuckin' dork all throughout the movie, saves these two chicks' lives, then gets his ass killed by Kane not that long before the movie ends. Ain't that some shit?" Everyone laughed at his re-hash of the last gimmick he had in the WWE, an anti-white-boy wrestler who'd every week have a 'Five Minute White Boy Challenge', or something to that extent.

"I just wanna know why they had the girl from 'Taina' live," Krys said. "I mean, they killed off the big mouthed blonde, killed the black guy… hell, one more minority wouldn't have hurt." They all laughed again.

Just then, Krys' cell phone rang. "Oh, go on back to the van, you guys, I'll catch up. I gotta take this call." Krys turned and headed to the closest shielded off space, and activated the call. "Hello?"

"Krystle, it's Mrs. London." The cold voice of her former mother-in-law nearly made Krys' skin crawl, and her blood run cold.

"How did you get my number? What do you want?" Her voice was stiff.

"Trust me, girl, this is as equally displeasing for me as it is for you," the older woman said coldly. "Little Paul's contact information has your cell number listed, so I thought it best to--er, call you."

"What happened?" She gripped her phone tightly. "Is my son alright?"

"He had a nasty fall while playing during recess in school, and broke his arm. We rushed him to the hospital, and the doctor thought it was best to inform you about what happened, since you're his mother and all."

"He fell?" She nearly swayed on the spot. "What was he doing?"

"Pauly was playing on the swings, standing up, according to his teacher," she said, with a tinge of sadness in her voice. "He slipped off the seat, and landed on his arm, apparently trying to break his fall."

"What the hell kind of teachers do you have teaching him up at that school, Heather?" Krys cried, fear crawling into her voice. "You put him that school, swearing that they were the best for boys his age, and I trusted you! I swear to God, Heather, if anything happens to my son, I'll--"

"You won't do anything, because you're in Massachusetts," Heather snapped. "Now, I said I'd only inform you of what happened; I never said you were _needed_ down here. Everything is under control now. He's under a sedative, and he's sleeping off the surgery, so you have nothing else to worry about."

"The hell I don't! I want my son with me, where he belongs!"

"Then maybe you should have thought about that before you killed my son," came Heather's chilling voice. Krys stopped and only stared unfocusedly in front of her. "As I said, you're not needed here. I told you what happened, and that's it. Goodbye."

"No, Heather, wait-" Before another word was said, Heather London disconnected the call. Krys stared at the phone for a few seconds before closing it. She slid down the wall slowly, and put her head in her hands.

A few moments later, she heard John's voice say, "Are you okay?"

Krys jumped up, wiping her eyes ferociously. "Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine. Just, um--a small emergency. Everything's under control now."

"Are you sure you're okay? Whatever that phone call was, it looks like it upset you a lot."

"You have no idea," she murmured, looking away from him.

"Ready to go? Mar and the others are waiting."

"Yeah, sure." She walked off behind John, thinking, _Heather, you bitch. How dare you try and keep me away from my son… You'll pay for this…_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Disclaimer: I do not own anyone who is, has been, or ever will be a professional wrestler. I do not own anyone who may be in this story. Martinique is her own property, likewise can be said for Charlene a.k.a. Jazz, and Rodney, a.k.a. Rodney Mack. John Cena also owns himself. The only ones I own are Krys, her son, and Heather London, as I completely made up the name. (I don't know for sure if there even IS a "Heather London" existing in the world.) Any person or persons who appear in this story that you may recognize are property of themselves and the Devil himself, Vince McMahon. Thank you for not suing.**

During the months, Krys and John grew even closer, thanks to Martinique and her cousins' interference. They had honestly thought that both deserved one another, and that Krys and John would be the perfect match for each other.

As time passed, and the two got closer, they eventually became great friends, then lovers. Finally, they became an official couple. John was so content with his life that he even went back to wrestling on a full-time schedule again, while Krys stayed at her house, and Martinique house-sat for him. Often, there were even times when John would ask Krys to come on the road with him, to get to know some of his friends and co-workers.

_**September 17, 2006 - WWE Unforgiven…**_

John Cena walked through the doors of the Skydome, Krys trailing behind him slightly, huffing to keep up with him. "John, don't you think maybe you should slow down a little bit?" she asked, wheezing as she jogged up to him.

He stopped. "Sorry," he apologized. "I'm just in sort of a good mood tonight. This is my first RAW pay-per-view back, and I can't wait for my match tonight. Edge is gonna pay for cheating me out of my win at SummerSlam." He pounded his left fist into his right hand, his blue eyes darkening at the thought of his kayfabe enemy.

"Leeet's not be too hasty, shall we?" Krys said, taking her hands and separating his. "You have to remember that you're in Edge's hometown tonight. This is Toronto, which means the crowd will most definitely be on his side, no matter how much he may suck as a heel. You may be at a severe disadvantage, but don't let them get you down. The fans actually think you're going to lose to him again, so don't give it away."

"In that case, shut up!" He covered her mouth, and she giggled like a schoolgirl. They finally decided to get their act together, and walked to the men's locker room, where they met up with Adam Copeland, known as Edge, and Amy Dumas, known as Lita.

"Hey, Cena, great to see ya," Copeland said, slapping hands with his opponent for the night. "How are things?"

He shrugged. "Pretty good. Things are definitely looking up for me since Martinique got me out of my funk." He smiled at the thought of his longtime friend.

Adam smiled. "Hey, speaking of Martinique, is she around?" He looked around teasingly. "I'd love to set my eyes on that lovely thing…" Cena glared at him, and Adam put his hands up in self-defense. "Sorry, just kidding."

"Your libido's gonna get the best of you one day," Amy said, walking into the locker room and sitting down on the bench next to Adam. She shook hands with John, and said, "Who's your friend?"

"This is my girlfriend, Krys. Krys, this is Adam Copeland a.k.a. Edge, and Amy Dumas, his on-screen slut--I mean girlfriend, Lita." Amy shot Cena a 'I'm so gonna fuck you up when we get out there' look, then smiled and shook Krys' hand.

"It's great to see more women around," she said, then frowned. "I could've sworn I've seen you around here before."

The smile on Krys' face faded. "Me? I don't think we've met before today."

"No, now that you've mentioned it, I think I do remember seeing you here before," Adam said, looking at Krys more intently. "Did you hang out with Paul London?"

"Yeah…" she said quietly. "He was my husband."

"I'm so sorry about what happened to him," Amy whispered. "Did they ever catch who did it?"

Krys' eyes shot up, and they were filled with terror. "No," she whispered. "Please…I-I really don't wanna talk about it anymore, if it's okay with you guys."

Adam and Amy shot each other looks. "Sure, no problem." For the time remaining until the pay-per-view started, the four talked and joked around. Finally, John's match came around, and as the promos were aired, John took Krys to the Gorilla Position, and sat her next to one of the technicians.

"Just stay here and watch the match from here," he instructed. "I'll come right back here."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him hard. "Good luck."

He smiled at her, and as his music cued, he went through the curtain to the boos and jeers of many.

While he wrestled his match, Krys watched several girls with backstage passes watching the match on the monitors closely, commenting on how hot Cena looked when drenched in sweat.

Nearly boiling with aggravation, Krys stood up and walked over to the girls. "You know, it's really rude and disgusting to talk about how hot a man is, especially when the man you're talking about has no interest in you."

One girl scoffed. "Who the hell is this girl?" she asked her friend, her upper lip curling in distaste from being told off.

"I'm Cena's girlfriend," she snarled through narrowed eyes. "Now, if you know what's good for you, I suggest you go somewhere else and get some other guy's cock off. And keep your eyes away from my man." The girls scurried off, and Krys smiled, pleased with herself. _That'll show those whores who's boss around here when it comes to my Johnny-babe,_ she thought, a small smile coming to her face as John grabbed the belt and won the match.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Disclaimer: I do not own anyone in this story, with the exception of Krys and her son. Martinique owns herself, and every person in this story that you recognize, I do not own. Thank you for opting not to sue.**

_**December 2006...**_

It was a cold December afternoon as Martinique drove up to John's place. That year, John's parents, John Cena Sr. (a.k.a. Johnny Fabulous) and Mrs. Carol Cena, along with John's brothers all agreed that it would be good for John to have their annual Christmas party at his house instead of at its normal location, their parents' home.

Martinique parallel parked her SUV in front of John's house, and got out. She got out of the car, and went over to her trunk. She got out her Christmas present for John, slammed the trunk down again, and headed up to the door and knocked. A few moments later, John answered the door. "Hey, Mar, you're kinda early, aren't you?" John asked, standing aside to let her in.

She smiled brightly. "Yeah, but I sort of figured you'd let me in anyway, since I am your closest friend and all. Krys here?"

"Uh, no. She went back over to her house a few days ago, I think to get some clothes. So, what's up with you? Still being 'just friends' with Marc?"

She shrugged lightly. "Me and Marc decided that being a couple was being too suffocating on each other's careers, so we mutually agreed to take things slow for a little bit, just cool things down for a while." She shrugged again. "So that means I'm officially single again."

"Hey, nothing's ever wrong with that. I'm actually thinking about breaking things off with Krys myself." He stood up and headed into the kitchen. "Want anything to drink while I'm out here?"

"Got any beer?"

"Coming right up." He disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes, while Martinique, in the living room, curled up her feet and sat Indian style on the sofa. John came back into the living room about three minutes later, two bottles of ice-cold beer in his hands. He handed one to Martinique and sat down, opening his bottle and taking a gulp.

"Why were you thinking of breaking up with Krys? I thought the two of you decided that you weren't a couple. Just friends with benefits…?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought too, until I heard her telling some ring rats off because they wanted to fuck me. Honestly, Mar, I don't know what caused her to get so possessive all of a sudden. It's like she wants to be with me or near every minute of every hour of every day. I can't stand how she's smothering me."

"I don't blame you, John," she whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Trust me, if I was your girl, I wouldn't want you out of my sight, either." John looked at her for a second, his blue eyes darkening, and she turned, taking a last giant swig of her beer.

"John--" she started to say, but before she could finish, John stood up and yanked her to her feet, the bottles in their hands crashing to the floor. She looked at him, confused, and John tilted her head up to meet his gaze, and crushed his lips over hers in a kiss which she returned just as passionately.

_**A few hours later…**_

Krys was one of the first ones to arrive at John's house for the Christmas party, coming out of her front door the same time Johnny Fabulous and Mrs. Cena started walking up the stairs. "Merry Christmas, Mr. and Mrs. Cena," Krys said, greeting each one of the two with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "How have you two been?"

"Couldn't be better," Carol said with a smile, waving her hand. "Same as always, my dear. How have you and John been lately?"

Krys shrugged. "To be honest, I can't really say. It's like we've sorta…grown apart since Unforgiven a few months ago. We've drifted apart, so to say. He hardly takes my calls, and whenever he 'finds the time' to talk to me, it's like I'm talking to a complete stranger. Tell me," she said, moving closer to the two of them, "is he always so distant in a relationship?"

"Not normally so," Fabo said in his Bostonian accent. "Not unless he's ready to break up with the girl in question." Seeing a look of shock, then anger, cross Krys' face, he said quickly, "But luckily, that's hardly happened, except this one time with this young woman named Elizabeth that none of us, with the exception of John and his brother Steve, liked. He's never spoken an ill word of you, Krys, you have nothing to worry about."

"I hope so," Krys whispered, watching Mrs. Cena ring the doorbell. She frowned slightly when Martinique answered the door, her beautiful and normally perfect blonde hair tousled and mussed, and her face a light cherry red.

"Hey there, Krys, Mr. and Mrs. Cena," Martinique said almost nervously. "Merry Christmas," she said, stepping aside to let the three of them in. "Is anyone else coming?"

"Yeah, the other three boys, Marc, and your cousins should be here in less than a half hour," John said, coming in from the kitchen. When Carol went to hug her son, Krys duly noticed that John's zipper was conveniently open. Her normally pleasant face took on a dark look, and she turned her face away when John went to kiss her cheek. "Hey, Krys, you okay?"

The look she gave him was pure venom. "Could I talk to you in the kitchen, John?" she hissed, not bothering to wait for an answer before storming out of the living room, and into the kitchen.

John gave his parents and Martinique a helpless look. "Uh, dad, mom, there's some crackers, giant sausages, and some cheese as appetizers on the dining room table. Help yourselves, and tell Charlene, Marc, and the others the same thing when they get in if I'm not back yet."

"Sure thing." John took off after Krys, and found his back door open, and Krys' back facing him, as she sat on the stairs, shivering.

"Krys?" he asked, approaching her slowly. "What's wrong?"

"Is that all you can say to me, John? 'What's wrong?' You know exactly what's wrong, you cheating bastard!" When John gave her a clueless look, she said bitterly, "You might wanna take a look at Martinique's appearance, then take a good look at your fly to get a clue as to why I'm pissed."

She glared over at him to see his reaction, and to her surprise, his face looked guilt-free. "I admit it, Krys, I did sleep with her. It was just the one time, and we couldn't help it. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I'll bet," she spat. "God, what about your cousin, Marc? What about me?"

"You're special to me, Krys. Over these past few months, we've bonded like I've never bonded with anyone else. We've been pretty good these past few months, Krys, and it was fun while it lasted, but sooner or later, you're gonna have to move on. I wouldn't have thought that you'd think we were together, or if we ever got together, that it wouldn't be for long. You shouldn't have given me your heart, Krys; I wasn't ready to move on from Ali."

"I wonder how Ali would feel, knowing that you're cheating on her memory with Martinique?"

"Ali knew how I felt about Martinique, and she accepted that. She didn't like it, but at least she accepted it. Martinique's your own friend, Krys, and you don't trust her."

"She doesn't even know the full reason I killed my husband, John. What makes you think I trust her enough with my 'boyfriend', let alone enough to tell her that?"

He ran a hand through his hair wearily. "Krys, it's Christmas. Let's not go through this, okay?"

"Fine. We won't, then." Krys stood up, and turned to go back into the house. Before heading back in, she turned back to him and said, "By the way, I was going to tell you the great news. I got a job with the WWE, too. I would've thought it would've been a great Christmas surprise, but I guess you and Martinique found a better way of surprising me."

She stormed back into the house, brushing past Martinique, John's parents and brothers, and Charlene and Rodney, who had just arrived seconds before. "Hey Krys, you okay?" Charlene asked, holding a piece of sausage to her mouth. "You look pretty down for Christmas."

Krys stopped, took one look towards Charlene, who was standing right next to Martinique, and sighed. "I think I should go," she whispered, "before I do something I regret. I hope your Christmas goes a hell of a lot better than mine, Char." She turned and walked out the door, not uttering a word to anyone else until she got back into her house, where she ripped a photograph of herself and Martinique off of the wall, and heaved it across the room.

"I swear, Martinique, you will pay…" she snarled, the dark look that had crossed her face when she killed Paul, appearing once again. "I swear, if it's the last thing I do, you and John will be sorry for what you did to me."

_**WWE RAW - January 1, 2007: John Cena vs. Kevin Federline**_

John Cena was just making a comeback against Kevin Federline in his no-disqualification match, after being attacked by Johnny Nitro. Cena picked him up for an F-U, but as he was about to slam Federline down into the mat, a young woman came running down the ramp way. She slid into the ring, hit Cena with a low-blow, and slid out of the ring, just in time for John to get attacked by Umaga.

Watching John get decimated by the giant Samoan Bulldozer, then pinned by the cocky wannabe rapper brought a smile to Krys' face. She grinned beatifically as she watched John pick up Federline a few moments later to slam him down for an F-U. _This is how it has to be,_ she tried to tell herself, turning the smile into a scowl, letting him see how angry she still was at him, before heading through the curtains into the back.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Disclaimer:**** I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story, with the exception of Krys and her son. The rest are all their own property, some being the property of Vince McMahon, due to their contract.**

_**The Next Week on RAW…**_

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm standing here with the woman who, last week, interfered in WWE Champion John Cena's match against Kevin Federline." Todd Grisham turned to face the woman, who had a pleasant smile on her face. "Now, Miss--"

"Krys, please," Krys cut in.

"Krys," Todd started again, "after what happened last week, the question on everyone's minds has got to be, number one, 'Who are you?' and 'What are you doing here in the WWE?' Can I get an answer to that, please?"

"You surely can." Todd held the microphone to her lips, and Krys began to speak. "You see, I have a history with John Cena. A very brief history, but history nonetheless. I started out as many others have, a fan of his, and my dreams came true the night I first met him. We got to talking, hit it off, and became an item. We dated for a bit, and I had dreams of becoming his wife.

"But you see, Cena had no intention of settling down to marry. He only saw women as notches on his bedpost, and he saw me as his latest conquest. Then, one night, I came home to surprise him, to let him know that I had gotten the call from the WWE to be one of their newest Divas, when I saw him, in bed with my best friend. When I confronted him about it, he laughed and told me that I was nothing more to him than a cheap slut, and he cast me aside.

"But now, I'm grateful for what he did to me. It allowed me to see him for the sick freak that he is, and I will never, EVER, forgive him--or her--for what they did to me."

Todd Grisham looked nervously to Krys, who had an angry look in her eyes. "With all due respect, Krys, we haven't seen that side of the champion John Cena at all."

She laughed. "Of course you haven't. Because you see, Todd, John Cena is a man who has two different sides to him. On the one side, you have a man who is a complete and utter jerk, a man who uses women to appease his sick hunger, then casts them aside once he's gotten what he wanted. Then you have the man you see on TV; the man who's a role model to all his 'Chain Gang Soldiers'," she said scathingly. "He's a liar and a fraud, and I'm going to make him pay for it, by taking what he desires most of all: The WWE Championship."

"No disrespect intended, Krys, but a woman cannot hold the WWE Championship belt."

"Do you think I've not realized that, you moron?" she snapped at him, making the backstage reporter flinch at her tone. "Of course I know the WWE Championship is a man's title. That won't keep me down. I want to see him embarrassed, so I'll use another man to do my bidding for me. The only question is a matter of who exactly will be the right man to assist me in humiliating him. And believe me, when the time comes, I will be relentless in my pursuit to see him completely decimated and humiliated." With that, she turned on her heel and stalked away, leaving Todd Grisham looking confused as all hell as RAW went to a commercial break.

After the commercial break, Krys headed to the Divas' locker room, where she was greeted by Cena. An utterly evil look crossed her face as the cameras followed her to where Cena stood.

"Hello, Krys," he said, his arms folded, and a smirk crossing his face. "How are you this lovely Monday night?"

"Don't play nice with me, Cena," she spat. "What do you want?"

"Well, for one, to know what the hell I ever did to you to deserve that shot to the jewels last week."

Krys smirked, her shoulders coming up in a shrug. "Oh, nothing much; just giving you back a small dose of the pain you delivered to me the day you tossed me aside for some other random slut. And just think, Dear John; I've not even begun to make you feel my wrath."

Cena started to make a smart comeback, but Krys raised a hand. "Oh, spare me the typical smartass comeback you usually do, Cena. I've heard it all before. I just wanna let you know, there have been a few calls I've received by men who are literally foaming at the mouth to help me humiliate you. I hear you're having problems with Umaga; how's that holding up?"

"Don't try it, Krys," he warned, his blue eyes turning frigid. "I don't think you wanna get on my bad side. I've had no problems knocking a ho on her ass before, and I won't hesitate to knock you on yours."

"Oh yeah, we'll see about that, Cena."

"Since you said you've heard all my catchphrases before, here's another one for you and whoever it is you finally acquire to take me down: you want some? Come get some." Cena walked off, and Krys smirked to herself as the cameras once again faded to black. As the camera turned off and the cameraman walked away, Krys entered the locker room, closing it silently behind her. Leaning against it, she laughed quietly to herself. _It's just a matter of time, Cena,_ she told herself. _I definitely want some, and I'll get some--no, not some, all of you. I will have my revenge._

Heading over to her gear bag, she pulled out her cell phone, and called Martinique. "Hey, Mar? Yeah, it's Krys. I'm sorry I've been so mad at you over that whole crap with John. I definitely don't blame you; it wasn't your fault at all. I was completely out of line, and I just wanted to know if I could meet up with you sometime soon, just to talk things over? …Great, thanks a lot. I really appreciate it, M. Thanks, sweetie, I'll see you in a few days." Smiling, she ended the call, and got her gear together.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Disclaimer:** I own no one who is, has, or probably ever will work for the WWE. They are their property alone, and their on-screen personalities are property of themselves and Vince McMahon. Let's be honest; if I ever owned John Cena, he'd never be allowed to leave my bedroom, lol. Anyone that you happen to recognize that are not original my original works of fiction or extensions of myself, I do not own. Thank you for not suing.

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the lag in posting; I've been going through a rough period in my life where sometimes I don't know what to write, I don't know how to get my idea down, or in many cases, I want to write something, but don't feel like it. So I'll try to get various chapters to various stories done soon; I'm hoping to finish at least one more story by the end of this year. In the meantime, enjoy this chapter!

_**After the show...**_

"Krystle, if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to talk to you and John about your interaction and your feud," stated Mr. Vince McMahon, the Chairman of the WWE. Krys and John were seated next to one another in Vince's makeshift office, while the riggers were busy clearing up the RAW stage and taking down the ring to head off to the location of the next house show.

Vince leaned forward, his hands folded together as he looked at the two of them, none of them saying anything for a few moments. Then, Vince cleared his throat, and started to speak. "I'd like to commend the two of you for your excellent progress these past two weeks on RAW," he started. "The two of you have made tremendous progress in your storyline, and, from the way you two have interacted, it seems to the rest of us, that you really hate each other. Very good chemistry." He smiled upon them.

"Thank you, Mr. McMahon," John said, with a smile on his face as well. "I have to say, it's a pleasure to work with Krystle--"

"Trust me, John, the pleasure's all yours," Krys said, the words dripping venom with each syllable. "Mr. McMahon, thank you for the compliment. Trust me, it's not hard to hate John. _Believe me,_ it isn't."

"Good, good." Vince leaned back in his chair. "I love to see my employees getting into their characters and story lines more and more. It makes for very interesting TV."

"I love getting into my character, sir. You have no idea."

"Excellent. Well, I just wanted to tell the both of you to keep up the good work. I'll see you at next week's RAW taping. Have a safe journey to your next show, and I'll see you next week. Good night."

The two of them bid the Chairman good night and wished him a safe journey, then as Krys started to make her way back to the locker room, Cena grabbed her wrist. Leveling him with a cool glare, she said quietly, "Want to let go of my arm, Cena?"

"Not until you tell me what you're up to. And I want to know why the hell you're doing this to me."

"Why am I doing this to you?" Krys put her hands on her hips, and gave him a look that chilled him to the bone. "How about telling me why the hell you ruined a good thing by fucking Martinique? Why did you hurt me like that? And while we're on the subject of telling why the hell we're doing the things we're doing to each other, how about telling me why the hell you cast me aside the way you did, with no regard whatsoever to how I might react to it?"

"You knew how I would react from the moment we started talking! You KNEW that I wasn't ready for a relationship, that what we had was just sex! I told you from the beginning that I wasn't looking for a girlfriend or a wife, that I would never love another woman the way I did Ali. You set yourself up for heartbreak; it had nothing to do with me or Martinique!"

"IT HAD EVERYTHING TO DO WITH YOU!" People were staring at them now, but neither one of them cared. Krys had long ago stopped caring that people stared at her when she lost control of her emotions. They stared when her and Paul argued in public, and she had stopped caring then. What was the difference now? "It had everything to do with you and her. The simple fact of the matter is, John, you cheated on me. You knew how I felt about you, and you took advantage of it. You thought that I wouldn't notice Martinique's hair looking all tangled up that night at your Christmas party? That I wouldn't see the fly on your jeans still unzipped? Did you think I was blind? That I wouldn't notice how much you wanted her, even though you were with me?" She shoved him away angrily, her eyes burning with hatred and bitter tears.

"Krys--"

"DON'T SAY MY NAME! Don't you dare say my name. You silly bastard, don't you ever come near me again! I want nothing to do with you, or your little whore! I swear to God, Cena, you will pay for this! You and Martinique will pay dearly." To emphasize her point, she drew back her hand and slapped him hard across the face. "For the sake of the company and our storyline, I'll continue to work with you. But if those cameras aren't rolling, don't you dare even think of even speaking to me, or I will kick the living hell out of you. Get the hell out of my way."

She pushed past him and past the crowd of people now gathered around them, staring at the two of them arguing, and headed off to the Divas' locker room, biting the head off of anyone who dared even look at her.

Glancing around at the crowd still staring at him, he finally snapped and yelled, "What the fuck are y'all looking at? There's nothing to see here!" Murmuring amongst themselves, everyone finally dispersed, heading their separate ways. Putting his head in his hands, John mumbled, "This shit is gonna be on some spoiler site by the end of the night. Fuckin' women are gonna be the death of me, I swear..."

Gathering up his gear, he took his time showering, then got his gear together, and left the arena close to midnight. He was just heading through the parking lot to his car, when he spotted the headlights of a speeding car. A car that was heading towards him, _fast_.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Disclaimer:** _I own no one who is, has, or probably ever will work for the WWE. They are their property alone, and their on-screen personalities are property of themselves and Vince McMahon. Let's be honest; if I ever owned John Cena, he'd never be allowed to leave my bedroom, lol. Anyone that you happen to recognize that are not part of my original works of fiction or extensions of myself, I do not own. Thank you for not suing._

Nearly paralyzed with fear, John's mind decided to work at the last minute, before jumping out of the way before it struck him. Seeing his gear bag getting flattened like a pancake, John heaved a huge sigh of relief. He was glad that it wasn't him in that predicament.

When the car finally stopped, the door opened, and a person stepped out. "Oh, you pathetic fucking idiot," Krys snapped at him, scowling as she stared at him down on the ground. "You look well enough like a lowlife worm right there on the ground where you belong, but for God's sake get up already."

John simply stared at her, shock written all over his face. "Did you just try to run me over?" he asked, getting to his feet and taking a dangerous step toward her. She was seriously trying his patience, and if she wasn't careful, he was going to beat the living shit out of her, and enjoy doing it.

She scoffed. "Me, try to run you over? Get real, Cena." She rolled her eyes at him, then moved to her front tire to move the now-destroyed gear bag from the tire. "If I'd wanted to run you over, John, I would have done it already. And it definitely wouldn't be here, where everyone could see and identify me. Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"No, even you're not that sadistic," John muttered, dusting himself off. "But then again," he added in a scathing tone, "you did kill your own husband."

Krys looked at him, wide-eyed, shock evident in her expression. Then, as soon as it appeared, a look of fury crossed her face, then her hand was across his face, slapping him hard. "How dare you, you bastard?" she hissed. "Don't you dare talk about Paul like that ever again. I loved him, more than I could ever love another man, and for you to imply something like that is a slap in the face to his memory and our love."

Before John could retort with a nasty remark of his own, Krys jumped back into her car, and sped off. With an audible sigh escaping his lips, John grabbed up his gear bag, and walked the rest of the way to his car. "This is going to be the death of me, I swear…" he mumbled, throwing his stuff in the trunk, and slamming the top down before getting in his car and speeding off.

**_One Hour Later..._**

"The nerve of that son of a fuck," Krys growled to herself as she stalked the hallways of the hotel she was staying in that night. She wasn't on a wrestling contract with the WWE; she was merely there to serve a storyline and then what went from there was anyone's guess. She was only going to be there for a few months, long enough for her to see her plan come to fruition, and then leave. If Vince wanted her to serve another purpose, she might care enough to stick around and do whatever he required of her. But for now, she was looking to fuck with his life and what better way to do that than to fuck with his career?

But then again, things didn't look so bad right about then. Standing right in front of her in the hotel bar, bossing around and terrorizing some poor female hotel worker, was the Legend Killer himself, Randy Orton. Tossing her anger out the window and putting on her best sweet-as-sugar smile that always got her whatever she'd wanted, Krys made her way over to Orton's table, and tapped him on the shoulder.

Whirling around, ready to rip whoever it was bothering him a new asshole, Randy Orton was surprised to see a woman looking up at him, an innocent smile on her face. His irritation turning to a smirk, Randy waved one dismissive hand to the woman he'd been pestering, and she scurried off, grateful that he was now distracted. "Krys, right?" he asked, smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "What brings you over here to my little corner of this bar?"

"Well, I was looking around for a familiar face, and the first one I saw was yours." The woman was lying right through her teeth, but hell, if it caught his ego and get him to help her, she would tell the man he was God himself. "Mind if I join you?"

"I'd be insulted if you didn't. And we all know you wouldn't want that; I've quite the reputation around here when it comes to pretty young ladies such as yourself." Randy smirked again, standing up to pull a chair out for her. She graced him with a smile, and waved her right hand delicately in a waiter's direction. "Now, what's a gorgeous woman like you doing in a shitty little bar like this?"

"I was looking for you, actually. Vodka, rocks," she instructed to the waiter, not even bothering to glance up at him. "Follow it up with a bottle of Jack; I have a feeling I'm gonna need it."

"Wow, you're quite the drinker," Orton commented, whistling appreciatively as he gave the waiter instructions for his own drink, then waved him off. "I like that in a woman."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Orton."

"And she knows respect too. I'm liking you more and more."

She smirked at him maliciously. "Don't get your hopes up. I have very little respect for many people in this world, let alone this company. But, I can honestly say, I see something in you, young Orton. It's just like seeing something in me."

"What do you mean?" The waiter arrived with the drinks, and Randy grabbed his up immediately, taking a huge gulp. He placed the glass down, and looked at Krys. Her brown hues glistened deviously as she looked at him. Her eyes almost seemed to not blink as they focused on him.

"What I mean is, I want to work with you, Orton," she hissed, finally breaking eye contact long enough to take a huge swig of her vodka. "I think we can mutually benefit from one another with what I'm proposing."

"And what exactly are you proposing?"

"The destruction of John Cena." Her eyes glistened once again, cat-like, and she finished the rest of her first drink with ease, throwing her head back and swallowing it all in a few swallows. She licked her lips delicately, then focused her attention back on Randy's blue eyes as he looked at her curiously. "I can promise you, you attack Cena, the WWE Championship is yours for the taking. I'm a very persuasive girl, Randy, and I don't like to dawdle with phony promises. If you decline my offer, I'll just take it to someone else who wants it more. Maybe Triple H?"

"Please," Randy scoffed. "He's married to precious Stephanie. All he has to do is screw her, and she's ready to put the title on him. You'd think the bitch has never been laid before." He rolled his eyes, then continued. "And anyway, even if I wanted to feud with Cena, it'd have to wait, because I'm stuck in this feud with Edge against DX."

"So what? I'm not worried about when it takes place, as long as it does. I'm looking for someone who can take him out, and ruin his career—not that it isn't already ruined. Do you hear those boos he's getting? Wonderful." She laughed, taking pleasure in him being booed mercilessly by the fans. "Anyway, what better way to get revenge on him in real life, than by getting revenge on him in kayfabe? And you're the perfect man to do it, Randy; you're a complete piece of shit, and the people know it."

Randy's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he shot her a deadly look. "Just what the fuck are you implying, little girl?"

She smiled again at him. "What I'm implying, dear Randy is that the fans think you're an absolute piece of shit. You're so hated that all you have to do is stand in the ring, and people are ready to kick your ass. You're the perfect man to take Cena out."

"But I already have a storyline coming up now that H is out. I'll soon be in another storyline, and I won't have time for Cena."

"Didn't I just say that time was of no concern to me? I'm pretty sure I just mentioned that it doesn't matter when it takes place, as long as it does. Jesus, I hate repeating myself." Irritated, she opened her bottle of Jack, and took a huge swig, feeling a slight buzz take her over.

"Calm down, cutie, I mean no harm." Randy took another sip of his drink, feeling his buzz falling into slight drunkenness. "Alright, so let's say I do agree to your plan to take Cena out. What's in it for you?"

"Like I said, all I want is for Cena to just be completely fucked up. I want his career ruined absolutely, and I want him to be humiliated, and you're the perfect man to do it." Sensing that he was borderline drunk, she stood to her feet, and walked over to his side, taking him by the hand. "I've got the bill; let's go discuss this further somewhere in private." She helped him up, tossed a few bills onto the table, then helped him out of the bar and into the nearby elevator.

Before Randy knew what was happening, Krys was throwing herself at him, and they were making out in the elevator. Hands exploring, sighs of pleasure, the whole nine yards. Her hands were grasping at the very obvious bulge in his tight jeans, and it was driving him crazy.

The elevator beeped at the fifteenth floor, and Krys calmly walked through the doors, still holding him by the hand as if he were some kind of special child that needed guidance. Though Randy was engaged as evidenced by the ring on his finger, he'd had no objections to her leading him anywhere, or having her way with him. He followed her dumbly as they stopped at her door. She pulled out her card key, slid it through the lock, and then opened the door to her hotel room, beckoning him to follow her by crooking her finger devilishly.

Once the door closed behind him, she was on him again, kissing, biting and sucking any available patch of skin she could find on his body. Finally, she pushed him back onto the bed, unzipped his jeans and took him into her mouth without a moment's hesitation.

Randy couldn't say no after this; she'd had a spell on him, and it wasn't just because of all the alcohol he'd consumed before she'd gotten there, and what little he'd drank after she'd gotten there. There was something about this girl…she could paralyze him with a simple look, could tempt him with only a glance, and she didn't even have to put up a seductive look or anything. All she had to do was speak, or even look at him, and he was hers.

He groaned loudly as she released his cock from her mouth, then didn't hesitate to remove his own clothing as she removed hers. "Condom," he mumbled breathlessly, and she wordlessly pulled a Trojan from the nightstand beside her bed and tossed it to him. He'd barely gotten it on when she pulled him from the bed and kissed him hard; he turned the two of them around so she faced the bed and shoved her onto it, then pounced on her, entering her swiftly. Not wanting there to be any time for romance or whatever bullshit he may have been thinking, Krys slapped him hard across the face, ordering him to 'fucking get it over with'.

They fucked hard and fast, neither one of them wanting anything differently. Randy withdrew quickly, flipped her onto her stomach, braced his hands on either of her hips, and pumped himself inside of her from behind over and over again, getting off on her moans and sighs, as she writhed beneath him. Within minutes of their rough and frantic joining, he was coming hard and fast inside her, and he knew he would do whatever she wished, as long as she continued to give him this each and every time he wanted it.

"So…are you going to help me?" she asked quietly once she'd gotten her breath back. It was more like a demand than a request, but Randy didn't mind any.

"Hell yes, I'll help you," he answered breathlessly as he withdrew from inside her tight confines, still blown away by what had just happened between them. He'd just had rough, virtually animalistic sex with a complete fucking stranger, all so she could enlist his help to take John Cena out. He would do her bidding, and he would do it happily, with a smile on his face.

Whatever the hell Cena had done to this woman, was going to be paid back to him in spades. Hell hath no fury like the wrath of a woman scorned.

Damn, he'd really stepped in it this time. And so had Randy.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Disclaimer:** I own no one who is, has, or probably ever will work for the WWE. They are their property alone, and their on-screen personalities are property of themselves and Vince McMahon. Seriously, let's be honest: if I ever owned John Cena, he'd never be allowed to leave my bedroom, lol. I'm not implying that Paul London's mother's name is Heather; nor would I wish bodily harm on anyone real or otherwise in this or any story. This is purely fiction; sadly, things like this happen. Anyone that you happen to recognize that are not part of my original works of fiction or extensions of myself, I do not own. Thank you for not suing.

**Warning:** This story has coarse language, and a character death involved. If these types of things offend you, please do yourself a favor and do **NOT** read. You have been warned.

--

Since she didn't need to be in any particular spot until next week's episode of RAW, Krys took her time gathering her things up and placing them in her suitcase. She knew exactly where she was going to go, and once she got there, she was going to take care of her business.

Smirking as she folded a pair of panties and placed them into the suitcase, she then turned and glanced over at the bed. There lay Randy, fast asleep in the bed, with the blankets bunched around his waist. She made her way over to the bed, and pulled the blankets down, her smirk growing wider when she saw the blankets drop below his hips, showing off the very thing that gave her so much pleasure the night before.

She had to admit, though she didn't give two shits about Randy Orton, he was a monster in the sack. She could have quite a bit of fun with him for quite some time.

Almost immediately, her mind began to drift towards John, and the time they'd shared together. Her pretty face darkened angrily, and her mouth curled up into a scowl. He'd had fun with her too, then cast her aside when he slept with Martinique. She was going to get her revenge against him, no questions asked. And she'd enjoy making both him and her so-called 'best friend' pay for going behind her back the way they did. But for now...

She gave a slight squeak when she felt herself being yanked down into the bed by Randy. "Dude, I just took a shower, come on!" she protested. "Let me up!"

"Fat chance," he said, a smirk on his face. "You woke me up, now you pay the price."

Krys laughed as he started to peel her clothes off, one by one. She'd forget about revenge for now. When the time came, they would get what was coming to them. "Is that for me?" she asked innocently, before lowering her head to his erection.

--

_**Two Days Later, The London Home – Austin, Texas**_

Heather London made her way down the stairs of her family's home, looking for her grandson, to inquire what he'd wanted for dinner. What she discovered upon entering the living room of her home, however, was a complete shock.

There sat Krys, seated next to her son, reading him a story aloud. "...And so Cinderella and her Prince Charming lived happily ever after," she said quietly, kissing her son's dark head as she closed the book. "The End. Did you like that story, sweetie?"

"Yes, mommy," he said, grinning up at his mother. He then turned his head, and smiled at his grandmother. "Hey, grandma, my mom's here! She made dinner for us, and she even brought me a Randy Orton autograph! Isn't that the coolest?"

"Yes," she said absently, her attention presently on the woman she'd hated with all her heart. She'd been the bane of her existence, stemming from when she'd first started going out with Paul. Heather had even advised her son against marrying her, sensing that the girl was not to be trusted, but Paul had brushed her warnings off, chalking it all up to her not wanting to see her son married just yet.

--

"_I know you don't exactly approve of Krys," he'd told Heather on his wedding day as she helped him get prepared, "but please, Ma, just please try not to start anything with her on today of all days."_

"_Paul, sweetheart, you know I'm only looking out for your best interests, and I still think there's something off about her," Heather had protested, staring at him with pleading eyes as he put on his suit jacket. "Honey, I don't want to see you heartbroken over someone like her; you deserve so much better, and she'll end up doing something horrible to you, I just know it."_

"_Mom, can't you just be happy for me today?" he sighed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "I'm getting married to the woman of my dreams, and we're having a child, a child born out of love. Can't you just put your grudge against Krys aside for one day, for my sake?"_

"_Sweetheart, you know I'd do anything for you. And, if you want me to be nice and not call her out for the manipulative little tramp that she is, then..." She then sighed "...then I'll play nice, and let you have your day."_

"_Thanks, mom. You're the best. I love you." Paul turned and hugged his mother, and, in the deepest recesses of her mind, Heather couldn't help but think that perhaps this was the last time she'd ever hear those words from her son._

_--_

"Paul, sweetie, it's time for bed," Krys said quietly, giving her son one more hug, before shooing him up the stairs, swatting at his backside teasingly as the boy ran off laughing. "I'll be up shortly to tuck you in." She then straightened up and turned back to face her mother-in-law, a dark look on her face. Without warning, she drew back her hand, and slapped Heather dead across the face.

The older woman's head snapped to the side, shock written all over her delicate features. When she turned back to face her daughter-in-law, the woman that she believed with all her heart killed her son, she saw that Krys had a dark and ugly look on her face. "You conniving little bitch," she snarled, glaring at her with raw hatred in her eyes. "You tell me I'm not good enough to marry your son, and then you have the nerve – the sheer audacity – to take _my_ son from me? You hated everything about me, and refused to let me take my own child with me when I left this miserable place! And the final straw, above all others, you dare to keep me from my own son, even after you and those bastards at that so-called prestigious school I let you send him to allowed him to get hurt! I trusted you with my son's safety while I was in Massachusetts getting everything settled in so I could bring him back with me, and that's how you thank me? You stupid, stupid bitch, that's the last time you'll _ever_ interfere in my family affairs." She took a dangerous step towards Heather, who immediately began to backtrack.

"Krystle...think about what you're saying," she said, her voice getting louder and more panicked with each word. "Everything I've done so far is in Paul's best interest. You're threatening me; I could have the police here in a heartbeat and have you thrown in jail. I'm sure that won't look too good, with your chosen career nowadays."

For a second, Krys stopped, looking unsure of herself, and Heather took her chance, reaching inside the pocket of her jacket to grab her cell phone. But before she could get a chance to dial 9-1-1, Krys had punched the older woman in her jaw, knocking her onto the floor, and the phone out of her hands.

"I've been watching you for a day or two now, Heather," she said quietly, advancing on Heather as she tried to move away. "I've seen you tuck my son in, and read him the bedtime stories I should've been reading to him. Those are things that _I_ should be doing, Heather, not you! You had no right to take my son from me! I didn't know why you were doing this to me; why you hated me so much that you would take my baby from me. I've known you hated me for quite some time, and I never knew why. At first, I just wrote it off as you not wanting to let go of your son, especially to someone you deemed a 'wrestling whore'...but then I realized the real reason.

"You never wanted any girl to have your son. You wanted Paul to stay your innocent baby boy forever, even when he'd pursued me, and got me to go out with him. You wanted Paul to stay up underneath you day after day after day, until he became a mama's boy again. Well, I thank God everyday that I made him into a man. A real man, not some little bitch that still pined for his mother to take care of him. I heard your conversation with Paul the day of our wedding, Heather."

"W-what?"

"I heard every word, you senile old bitch!" Krys looked up the stairs, making sure that Paul Jr. was still in his room, and was out of sight and earshot of what she had in mind for his beloved grandmother. "I heard how you told Paul that he was too good for the likes of me. You wrinkly old whore, you'll pay for every single thing you've ever done to make my life miserable." She then produced a knife from her pocket, and Heather's eyes widened.

"W-where did you get that?!"

"Paul gave it to me for my birthday once. I never thought I'd ever use it for anything, until now. I was going to throw it away once he'd died, but I kept it, knowing that Paul gave it to me for a reason, and I had every intent on finding out what that reason was. And now, dear mother, I've found that reason." She raised the knife to the light, beaming brightly as the lights of the living room reflected off of the blade. "It's absolutely beautiful, isn't it?

"How appropriate it is that you would die, by a gift that your son gave to his loving wife." There was a twisted smile on her face as her gaze settled on Heather, and the older woman's eyes were on stalks. "It'll almost be like...your own son is killing you."

"You're insane!"

Krys then lowered the knife to look at her mother-in-law contemplatively, the smile turning into a frown. "No, not insane, Heather. Just very, very...loving. Too loving, in fact."

Heather jumped to her feet and started to run. But before she could get to the door, she felt the piercing of the blade into her back, hitting her spine, and she collapsed to the floor, blood pouring out of her back. Try as she might, she couldn't scream for help. There was no one around; her husband had gone off on one of his golfing expeditions, and Jonathan was God knew where, hosting another pod cast of his show.

Slowly making her way towards the wounded woman, Krys smiled, vindicated. "I swore you were going to pay, Heather," she snarled, grabbing the woman's head and yanking it up to face her. "You know something, Heather? If memory serves me correctly, you let Paul bring Melina over to our home, knowing that I would overreact and do something drastic. Did you want him to sleep with her, and kick me to the curb, and take my son and leave me with nothing? Did you _honestly_ think that I would let that happen?"

"You...you killed Paul, didn't you?" she finally managed to gasp out, wincing with each sharp tug Krys delivered to her hair.

"You know what?" she asked quietly, raising Heather's head so that she was whispering in her ear. "You're right. Paul wanted to leave me; he lost faith in our love, and he had to go. As for you, mommy dearest, you never liked me to begin with. And after I tried so hard to get along with you all. You never gave me a chance," she snarled. With that said, she raised her knife, and, with one motion, before Heather could scream, she slit the woman's throat, then moved away quickly, not wanting to have any of the woman's tainted blood touch her. She had to look her best when she took her son from this place. Blood just would not do at all.

With that done, she quickly made her way to the kitchen, where she cleaned the blood off of the blade, and all traces of any fingerprints. She then grabbed the nearby dishtowel, and wrapped up the knife, tucking it into the back pocket of her jeans, then quickly made her way back to the living room to get Heather's body.

She hated having to do this to the matriarch of the London family, but hell, the woman had had it coming for quite a while. She had nothing against the rest of her in-laws, because they had accepted her with open arms, all of them except for Heather. Hell, they were much better off without her anyway. She didn't like having to do this to Heather, or having to do what she did to Paul, but things happened. Circumstances were beyond her control, and she had wanted her son in her arms more than anything.

She slowly wiped her eyes of the tears that fell down her cheeks. After all, despite the things she did, she was still human. That meant she was born to make mistakes.

"Sorry, Paul," she whispered, raising her eyes heavenward. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry."

As the front door to the London home opened, Krys started to cry again as she picked up Heather's phone, and finished dialing the number to the police.


End file.
